The
weather was glorious and warm. A hurricane? Really? The calm before the storm. By 1pm the air outside work would look brown and smoky.

I
was watching the girl at the cafe make my morning coffee.

“Like, I
really don’t feel prepared,” she said, scrunching up her nose before
returning to the Dire Straits song she was singing.

“You hurricane
proofed?” I asked as colleague and fellow Aussie Shannon rolled in to
work.

“Well, I haven’t done anything, yet,” she said, clearly
unperturbed. “I’ve got to take the BBQ off the balcony. I should
probably get some DVDs. It will be such an anti-climax if it’s just… a rainstorm.”

Rose, at the next desk thought, the whole thing was a media circus.

“I think they’re, like, overdoing it, they’re scaring everybody,” she said, in her thick Noo Yawk accent. “It is what it is,” which wasn’t to say nothing at all, she stressed.